A short walk through bushland gave us access to a spectacular and safe ocean beach which provided not only sea bathing but long walks and marvellous sandhills ideal for rolling down.

The bush revealed countless treasures - a variety of orchids and many other native flowers including carpets of early nancies (Wurmbea uniflora) which covered wide areas in early spring. These tiny white flowers were always welcomed with delight when they first appeared. Interest was found in a wide variety of native vegetation some of which bore edible berries. For my brother this became a life-long interest and he left carefully prepared notes for a small book on the orchids of Sandy Point*.

The tranquil waters of Shallow Inlet enticed fishermen in tiny boats and delighted children with water for paddling. Sometimes squeals of laughter could be heard as we stepped cautiously to avoid swarms of tiny crabs. We carried picnic baskets and enjoyed the contents as we lunched amid the sheltering sand dunes.

Our pleasant humble homes, built of weatherboard from locally milled timber and lined with hessian and attractive bold wallpapers, were the handiwork of my father assisted by his two younger brothers. Warmth was provided by wood stoves and open fire places with locally available fuel. We were taught to be careful with fire but we had little fear of it. Each evening my mother carried the day's coals from the kitchen stove to the open fireplace in the sitting room.

Lighting was from kerosene lamps and it made reading, hand sewing or writing somewhat difficult. Keeping the lamp glasses clean and polished was essential. As my father rubbed them with a soft cloth he always added, "It's old soldier's breath that does it." And he would have known since he had been in the Indian army in the Boer War. He always contrived to be nearest to the best lamp so the clear glass added to his personal comfort.

Mother always seemed to accept placidly the less efficient light and one photo (or is it a recollection) has her seated in her favourite chair quietly reading. She had an alert mind and a vast retentive memory. I still marvel she was able to answer all our questions not only when we were small children but also later.

Apart from reading she loved games. With groups of people this was in a sense a guard against conversation which she feared could get out of hand and become an argument. She could never see such exchanges as discussions.

Along with older friends my parents played Five Hundred and later Auction Bridge. I can still see the wicked look in Dad's eye when he knew he held the trump cards and could hardly wait to table them. Various board games occupied us as children and winter evenings though long were never boring. In warmer weather we remained outside till we could no longer see. We would walk in the nearby bushland, chase each other around the paddocks, and pursue swarms of beetles with old tennis racquets. How cruel can one be in thoughtless fun.

As we grew into our teens we stumbled over ploughed land to adjoining properties aided by a hurricane lamp flickering in the wind. Here we gathered for singing around the piano or we would sit in the firelight, eyes shining with excitement as we listened to our Irish-Canadian aunt Molly who was an imaginative and inspiring/engaging raconteur.

We were always provided with supper but we knew it was time for the homeward journey when Uncle Dan started to wind the big clock on the mantle. Uncle Fred's way was to rattle the kitchen grate as he set the fire for the morning.

Amenities such as a hot water service and septic tank were luxuries of the future. Rain water was collected in pipes from the spouting around the house and shed and fed into tanks which provided for all domestic needs.

Where a windmill or a well was installed on a property, the house garden could flourish but if not, waste water and natural rainfall were all that was available limiting our gardens.

The windmill for watering stock was situated at a distance from the homestead.

We had to conserve domestic water hence the communal family bath on Saturday nights supplemented during the week by the sponge bath. Both took place in our bath room.

The same conservation of water applied to the laundry and the modern fetish for changing clothes daily came later. Running water and washing machines eventually eased the burden of boiling up the copper to wash clothes and turning the wringer by hand to squeeze the water out of them.

Suitable arrangements were essential for the disposal of human waste. The "dub" or "dunny" was situated some distance from the house and where possible concealed amidst trees but in many instances this building was more obvious than the house.

A can could be used for the task but required frequent emptying. The deep pit was less offensive, ashes being used to cover the waste. When this had to be cleaned out it was my father's job and certainly not pleasant. But the refuse was dry and could be disposed of far away from the residence. The now much disliked chamber pot was essential in bedrooms at night.

In the early days of my childhood no goods and services were provided nearer than the railhead at Fish Creek, some fourteen miles (26 kilometres) away and reached by very primitive roads across the paddocks. As cream was produced on one or more of the local farms, it had to be delivered to the butter factory in Fish Creek three times weekly. It is difficult now to imagine the buggy and pair of horses engaged in this rough and time-consuming venture. But the journey was the only means whereby goods from Fish Creek could be brought to Sandy Point. This also was the only way mail could be sent and received and papers with the world's news purchased.

In the early twenties a mail contractor using a horse-drawn vehicle started to go from Fish Creek to Walkerville three times a week. Mail and supplies for Sandy Point were then left at a box about three miles from the original homestead and some five miles (8 kilometres) away from the present township. As we grew older it was our delight to ride our ponies to collect it.

Prior to the real thing one of our great joys was riding "stick horses". Suitable straight stakes of a certain height were found and made smooth by the kindly services of our fathers. These mounts performed like Melbourne Cup winners as we rode them around the paddock and were all named and cherished, being either docile or fiercely difficult to control. They were carefully stabled under the house resting on the base frame-work.

Of course they were quickly overlooked when the real thing became available. My sister and cousin Vi were not only keen riders but also made a reconnoitre at times in search of some male attention. I recall my mother remonstrating with Peg about her boldness. One can afford to laugh at her concern today

To provide us with our daily food our mothers were called on to bake bread, churn cream and care for perishable food under difficult conditions. One of the Pilkington men would kill a sheep and prepare joints for distribution. Lamb was far too valuable to kill. My mother was an expert on serving varied and delicious mutton dishes. All the households had hens so in addition to free-range eggs, we ate deliciously baked chooks. Fish were available from the waters of Shallow Inlet and rabbits could be trapped or shot. Carefully prepared by my mother these provided a very tasty meal. Wild duck (Australian Teal) were available during certain periods and beef could be purchased in Fish Creek from time to time. It was possible therefore to enjoy varied fare but keeping it fresh against the elements called for great ingenuity. We had the outside meat safe for large items or for smaller ones, the Coolgardie ‹ a hessian construction which kept things cool by evaporation with water dripping down all sides via flannel strips from a trough at the top.

Our spiritual education was not neglected. All our parents could be deemed God-fearing. The first church service was held in 1911, the Minister visiting remained overnight at one of the homes where the service was held. This became a permanent arrangement. As children were born and grew Auntie Molly generously gave up her Sunday morning to conduct Sunday School This gave us all a grounding in the Bible and in the knowledge of hymns that I have valued throughout my life. Indeed my brother became an Anglican minister and served in that capacity until his death in 1978.

In 1919 school began on a part-time basis and was accommodated in one of our homes. Later with the support of the Education Department and the labour of the local parents School Number 3986 was born with a full-time teacher. My mother agreed to provide the necessary accommodation and the the succession of teachers we hosted is a story in itself.

The distance and isolation was further diminished when in 1926 the Postmaster-General's Department erected a single line from Fish Creek to Waratah and Sandy Point. At last we were in direct touch with the world at large.

From then on life began to change. Sandy Point Post Office was established in the kitchen of Mrs Dan Pilkington's home** and mail was delivered three times weekly. A few years later a party line following along the fence line and erected by the householders gave us all access to the telephone.

Various amenities became more and more available. Roads were built and old tracks disappeared. Motor transport began to sneak in bringing changes none of us could have envisaged. From the later 1920s we were all ready for secondary education so began to disperse. An era was fast disappearing but the memories of those halcyon days of childhood, carefree and safe in beautiful surroundings and nurtured by wonderful parents, have been the building blocks of the lives of all the children who grew up then at Sandy Point.

* from which his widow Dorothy compiled a manuscript, one copy of which was deposited at the Yarram Office of the Victorian State Department of Conservation and Environment in the early 80s.
** on the site of the original homestead, this house is now known as "Doonagatha".